Don't Take My Picture
by Ashesofthefirststar
Summary: Ichigo's wife has been in a three year coma, and to most around him, it seems as if he resigned himself to be in one with her, but when he meets business man and part time photographer, Byakuya, he has to decide between staying in the past and looking towards the future.
1. Chapter 1

**Shallow Depth of Field**

Byakuya Kuchiki stood on the rooftop of Seireitei Memorial attempting simply to be. It was the small interval of time where it wasn't quite dark and it wasn't quite light and all you could hear were the echos of the night before.

This was Hisana's favorite time of the day. She said it was as if the city was unfolding, showing you new things and beginnings. She said that if she could capture that moment and keep it with her forever, she would.

Byakuya lifted up the camera that hung against his neck and snapped a picture of the fleeting horizon.

He lowered the camera, and before he turned to go back inside, he looked up to the sky and thought, _'I wonder what the city will show me today.'_

xXx

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

A plump middle aged man, who had the audacity to insult Ichigo with an expression of boredom, put down his clipboard and stood with hands on the nursing station.

"I do not kid, Kurosaki-san. Let me explain-"

"No, let me explain to you," Ichigo said, pointing a finger at the droopy eyed nurse, his last bit of patience clenched between his molars. "My wife is being transferred here as we speak. Do you know what we've gone through to get a room here? I sold our house! You can't just send us home. We were promised a room, and I'm not leaving until we get one."

If Rhea could speak for herself, Ichigo knew she'd agree with his indignation. They were both similar in that way, fiercely protective, walking Roman candles just waiting to be sparked.

The only difference was that she knew when to trade out spitfire for a big smile and a bit of flattery, and by the end of the week, she'd be best friends with the owner of the hospital, inquiring about their mothers kidney problem. She was like that, a strategically evil genius with an ever expanding heart.

Ichigo ran a hand through his hair and let out a composing sigh. "Look, my wife is in a coma, and I brought her here because this is one of the best hospitals in the country. I uprooted our whole life. There has to be somewhere."

The nurse gave Ichigo an unimpressed look that said he had heard all the sad stories as he sipped lazily from a Seireitei Memorial coffee cup.

"Look, Kurosaki-san. Whoever entered you into our system made a mistake. They placed you in a single occupant room not realizing it was marked as private."

"But there is space in the room, right?"

"Well, technically, yes, but-"

"Then what's the problem!?"

The nurse sighed, tapping the side of his coffee cup. "The problem is that Kuchiki-Sensei, the owner of this hospital, pays for that private room. We'll refund you-"

"That won't be necessary."

Ichigo swung around to see a man leaning elegantly crossed armed against the door frame of the room opposite the nurses station. His face was heavy with indifference and he reeked of old money and propriety, and Ichigo couldn't help but to dislike him. Him and his mulberry colored cashmere sweater and tailored slacks and handsome face that probably acted as a Skeleton key, never meeting a door he couldn't open.

The nurse stood up immediately, his posture taunting as if he were balancing books on his head.

"Are you sure, Kuchiki-Sensei?"

"Yes. It was our oversightl, and I would rather avoid any unnecessary conflict. Besides." He paused, and Ichigo saw something move in those eyes, like the way dust might move when disturbing a book that hasn't been opened in years. "It is not as if Hisana needs the privacy."

The nurse's lips coiled as he gave a curt node. "I'll have the orderly's bring in another bed."

Ichigo felt as if steam was still rising from his skin, some residual anger left over from the sudden resolution of this conflict. He cleared his throat and tried to remember what Rhea would say about gratitude and mending bridges instead of burning them and such.

"Thanks," Ichigo said simply, and those million dollar features, so apathetic as if to say no tragedy in the world was worth stiffening for, hardened in his direction.

"Don't thank me. I only did it because that's what Hisana would've wanted," he said before turning back into the room.

Ichigo would've been mad if the statement wasn't so damn relatable.

Thank god for wives, they make us better people.

xXx

The room looked more like an upscale condominium than a place for the sick and ailing. There were wall to wall bamboo flooring and mahogany dressers. Beside each bed were fabric lounges, a coffee table, and a wall hung plasma seemed to go to great lengths to make you forget you were in a hospital, even placing sensored air fresheners around the room to mask the smell of antiseptic.

Ichigo unpacked all of Rhea's belongings. After placing her clothes away in a dresser, he pulled out a picture from his suitcase and smiled down at it for a moment.

In it was Rhea tip toeing around in their kitchen with Karin and Yuzu. She had been teaching them a traditional Greek dance.

The girls loved Rhea and she loved them, and he almost felt bad for leaving Karakura like he did, but they knew that being a husband had always been a full time job for him. He'd visit Rhea before work and typically stayed with her for most of the night, doing things that the very understaffed Karakura Memorial didn't always get time to do, like brushing her hair and helping her shave. The girls and his dad or his friends often wanted him to come over for dinner or to go see a movie, and sometimes he did, because he knew they were worried, but it always just made him feel worse than anything else. He would think things like, 'Rhea should be here', and 'If she can't be here than I shouldn't be either.'

After so many times of declining their invitations, they stopped asking and instead would come to the hospital. Yuzu, the saint that she was, would do Rhea's nails and talk about her life in animated detail, and Ichigo couldn't properly convey how much he needed that, because he knew his family's opposing opinions even if they didn't speak on them much. He knew they thought he was breathing too much hospital air. He knew they thought he had entered into the semi comatose sleep with his wife, and maybe he had, but that's what marriage was, till death do us part, in sickness and in health. There was no where else he should or could be.

Ichigo placed the picture on a bedside table and sat down in a lounging chair. In hopes of quelling the anxiousness of waiting for Rhea, he looked around the room with a greater scrutiny. Although, the only thing that offered a distraction were thoughts about the petite woman in the bed parallel the one Rhea would be staying in.

He wondered what circumstances had brought her to this place, wearing an IV like a ball and chain. It wasn't him being nosey as some much as it was the doctor in him and just the law of proximity. Ichigo always had this habit of diagnosing the people around him. However, all he could tell was that she was sleeping, and that was probably all he had the right to know anyway.

Ichigo's attention went to a framed photograph of a Tokyo skyline hung above her bed. His eyes were swept across the page by the interesting vantage point and use of color, but were brought back by the sound of someone walking through the door.

It was the owner and that face that looked as if it had never seen the sun light, unblemished by scars or emotions. He looked to Ichigo and said, "Hello," and Ichigo could tell that it was only because of the strictest of well to do upbringings that he was even able to manage that pleasantry.

"Yo," Ichigo said, watching the man as he walked over to Hisana's bed with a picture frame held protectively up to his chest. He placed it glass side up on the night stand, took the framed skyline from the wall, sat it down, and put the new one up. It was the same skyline, but somehow it looked completely different.

Byakuya glanced at it with a tilted head before stepping back and turning to his wife. He looked as if he was caressing a strand of her hair, and Ichigo almost wished he could see his face. He had a hard time imaging those sharp edges dulling for anyone.

Ichigo realized that, for no particular reason, he had been watching the man, making him look down with bashfully furrowed brows.

"Your wife will be arriving soon."

Ichigo looked up to see Byakuya looking not at him but at the picture he had just taken off the wall. He scowled, a typical expression of confusion. He could hear Rhea's laughter followed by a, 'You don't have to look so mad just because you don't know what's going on.'

"How do you know?"

"I inquired."

"You asked?"

Byakuya took a step forward, finally looking up with blinking eyes. "Yes," he said as if it was a perfectly reasonable action with no needed explanation. Ichigo didn't see it like that, but considering he was only here because of this man's whims, he dredged up some gratitude from the most pleasant parts of himself.

"Oh, well thanks for letting me know."

He nodded shortly and stepped forward again, as if using just his presence alone to tell Ichigo their conversation wasn't over.

Ichigo stood too if only because he wouldn't let Kuchiki see him with his chin down. Rich men like these were sharks, they could smell your empty pockets, labeled you as weak, something Ichigo wasn't.

"I did not formally Introduce myself. I am Kuchiki Byakuya."

"Kurosaki Ichigo. My wife's Kurosaki Rhea."

"And Kurosaki Rhea sufferers from a vigil coma, yes?"

Ichigo, unable to stop himself, snorted. "Did you inquire on that too?"

Byakuya perked a brow, giving a look that Ichigo could only interpret as 'You ungracious proletariat scum.'

"That would've been unnecessary, considering you were yelling your wife's prognosis right outside of the room."

"Oh-" Ichigo dipped his head. "Sorry about that," he mumbled.

"How long has your wife been in this state?" he asked, ignoring Ichigo's weightless apology.

"...Uh, three years."

Byakuya's nose crinkled. "And you sold your home to come here? Why?"

Ichigo scowled. "You're the owner of this hospital. You should know its the best in the country."

"Yes, but people do not wake up from three year comas, not typically."

Byakuya looked confused, almost innocently so, and Ichigo could see that his rudeness was probably less the fault of himself and more of his upbringing. Still, Ichigo found himself less than sympathetic of this fact.

"This hospital has some of the best diagnosticians in the country and the most cutting edge medical research, including a study on semi comatose states."

"I am well aware-"

"Then you should know, _Byakuya_ , why me and Rhea came here. It's probably the same reason your wife is here."

"That is true, but this hospital is well within my means. I did not have to uproot my life for such an infinitesimal chance."

Ichigo's pressed his knuckled hand into his leg, practically feeling Rhea's hovering over it, telling him to think, to breathe.

"Yeah, well," he spat, "not all of us were born into wealthy families. Some of us have to give up everything for the people we love."

Byakuya's eyes widened marginally as if he hadn't been expecting that. "I see," was all he said as he turned to leave. He stopped at the door, hand on frame, and not turning around, he said, "Your wife's state, it will get easier over time… if you allow it. Oh," he looked over his shoulder at Ichigo, "It is Kuchiki-san, not Byakuya," he said before leaving Ichigo standing there, thoughtfully looking at the gaunt bedridden woman.

 _'Easier… Is that what it is?_ '

xXx

As soon as Ichigo walked through the door his hair was being preened by the finicky hands of Yumichika. He tried to crouch away and swat but his hands were preoccupied with suitcases, and thus he stood there and took the mother henning.

"Some people would just help me with my luggage," Ichigo muttered, sulking under that nimble touch.

"And some people _should_ know better than to come to my house with an unruly mop on their head." He kneaded a strand of Ichigo's hair and tutted. "I will drench you in leave in conditioner later," he warned, relieving Ichigo of one of his bag.

Ichigo snorted as he walked through the arch way. "Ikkaku's lucky he's bald."

"Do not mention that brutes name," Yumichika said, whipping around from the corn of which he placed Ichigo's bag. He raised his hands up to his head and slowly lowered them, wiggling each finger as if he was pantomiming rain fall. "It will ruin the aura."

"Did you two break up… again?"

"I broke up with him."

"What is this? Like, the fourth time?"

"The fifth," he corrected, "and the last."

Ichigo snorted again. "Sure," he muttered, dodging Yumichika's withered glare to instead look around the meticulously decorated, stylized living room. It was just what he'd expect from his old high school friend turned interior designer.

Yumichika saunter into the kitchen, asking, "Would you like a beverage? Tea, coffee, beer?"

Ichigo sat down his bag and followed. "Coffee would be good." Yumichika pulled out a mug and Ichigo watched with a simper. "Look, Yumichika, thanks for letting me stay here until I get settled. I promise-"

"Oh, no, no, no," Yumichika said, waving the coffee mug back and forth. "The last thing I want to hear is this self deprecating, humbled hero speech. Although, I'm sure you worked very hard on it. Pride is good, but you should never feel shamed for accepting the offer of help from a friend." He started filling the mug, saying, "Just keep your clothes off the floor and pretend to like the coffee, despite the fact that it's god awful, and you can stay here as long as you neee."

Yumichika sat the mug down in front of Ichigo with such a matter of fact grin that Ichigo couldn't help but to parrot it.

"I think I can manage that. I'll be at the hospital most of the time anyway."

"Seireitei Memorial, right?" Ichigo nodded. "Hm," Yumichika hummed, impressed, "That place is high class."

"It better be." Ichigo rubbed a hand over his reddened eyes and smiled in a sort've helpless attempt to hide his exasperation. "I sold everything we owned to get Rhea a room there."

"I've heard it's like a country club for the sick." He winked. "Try not to scare the nobility."

Ichigo snorted. "It's hard when they ask for it. If it wasn't for Rhea, I would've punched the owner of the hospital."

"The owner?"

"Kuchiki Byakuya," Ichigo scowled, unsure if his face was pinching because of the stale coffee or the sharpness of the man's name. "Some socially inept ass hole who's whole world revolves around him in his bank account." Ichigo thought back to their wives mutual condition and how Byakuya had agreed to let them share a room, and then he thought that, maybe he was the one being the ass hole. He just felt raw, like an open wound ready to hiss at the tiniest brush. He was too lethargic to even remember exactly why he was upset. "Our wives share a room."

"Someone sounds a little bitter."

"I'm not bitter." He scowled. Okay, maybe he was a little bitter. "I just don't know how to act around people with that much money. It's like I can feel him thinking he's better than me."

"Oh that's easy," Yumichika said, lashes fluttering as he mimicked a voice that Ichigo assumed to be aristocratic. "You talk about the stock market and the recent economic crisis and what million yen suit you'll be wearing to the next benefit charity and so on and so forth."

Ichigo chuckled shallowly, and there was something hollow in it. "No thanks. I actually like myself. I'll just ignore him."

"That seems like a sound alternative. Don't fret, it'll cause frown lines. You'll endure," Yumichika picked up his mug in a toast like gesture and said, "For Rhea."

Ichigo mimicked him, smirking. "For Rhea."

After making his place in Yumichika's guest room and showering, Ichigo headed back to the hospital, happy that in was within a reasonable walking distance. He took that opportunity to familiarize himself with the area as he strolled up the sparsely populated metatropolis sidewalk.

There were several restaurants and bars, but it was a photo gallery tucked between a floral shop and a book store that had Ichigo stopping in a more curious observation.

The door had a brass seaweed figure windchime and the glass was adorned with Kanji, reading: Senbonzakura Gallery. Ichigo looked through sweeping glass panels. The lights were dimmed, but bright enough to see some of the photos near the front.

They were skylines, similar to the one Byakuya hung above Hisana's bed.

Ichigo squinted and leaned forward, letting his obscured gaze linger before continuing towards the hospital.

 _'Maybe he bought them from that gallery.'_


	2. Chapter 2

Ki wo tsukete: All the best

Jaa ne: See you, considered very casual. Rude to say to someone who's not a close friend

 **Out Of Focus**

A week passed and the lounge beside Rhea's bed had started to learn the shape of Ichigo's body. He stayed there most of the time, only leaving to shower, eat, and exercise. Really, he didn't even have to do that. They had a cafeteria, gym, and bathing quarters, but the food at the hospital was overpriced, and sometimes, Ichigo felt like he couldn't even afford to breathe the same air as these champagne socialist.

Really, as big as the place was, it seemed so small sometimes.

Ichigo spent most of his time time using his laptop to look for a job. Something close by, perhaps at a doctor's office, would be preferential.

This wasn't where he thought he'd be a thirty years old, wasn't where he was suppose to be. He met Rhea in Tokyo at medical school. Ichigo was aiming for pediatric surgery. Rhea, the ever curious woman that she was, wanted to put her hands in every part of the body before deciding which one was for her. She was foreign, heavy with greek roots diluted by her American nationality. She spoke choppy Japanese, but radiated with a charming cynicism. Maybe that's why everyone loved her. She was a cultural anomaly in a country that valued conformity. She was witty and boisterous in a way that made her Japanese peers unsure of how to react to her. She didn't belong, but she also wasn't deterred, elbowing her way into acceptance by simply being herself.

She was head strong and family oriented, and after graduating medical school, Ichigo asked her to marry him. He was sure she'd say no. She was interesting and so open, and by comparison, Ichigo was pinched at all of his corners, endearing in such an _acquired_ sense, nothing like Rhea at all. But not only did she say yes, she also agreed to do their internship in Karakura so that Ichigo could be closer to his family. Maybe if they had of stayed in Tokyo, they'd be working in this hospital instead of living in it.

At twenty seven they took their medical boards and passed, ready to start their residency and the rest of their careers, their lives, but then the accident happened. There was no planning for that.

Afterwards, he worked in his dad's clinic. He couldn't do his residency, couldn't walk down those halls knowing Rhea should be there too, because maybe life didn't care about what she deserved, but he sure did.

He'd sometimes watch the medical interns with envy. His fingers would twitch at the sight of a scalpel, and maybe that's why he had to periodically leave the hospital. It was a reminder of everything he, they, could've had if life wasn't so cruel.

Ichigo adjusted his messenger bag as he walked down the corridor leading to his wife's room. As he stepped closer, he heard the familiar voice of Byakuya. Ichigo hadn't seen the man since their less than stellar first meeting, and he felt a strange reaction to his absence. At first, he was relieved, but as days passed, he became indignant at the fact that Byakuya would go so long without visiting his sick wife. It wasn't until yesterday that he overheard one of the nurses saying that Byakuya was out of town on business. Apparently he was the president of Kuchiki enterprises, a corporation that owned hospitals all across Tokyo. Once again, Byakuya and Ichigo's assumptions about him left him with some unsettled guilt.

It wasn't until Ichigo was stepping through the door that he registered another, more flustered voice. Byakuya looked up to him, brows fretted into one, and a young woman snapped her head around with sharp eyes and scathing cheeks. She looked like a much healthier version of the woman lying by their side.

He floundered between those two glares before dipping his head and lumbering towards Rhea's bed. The young woman looked back at Byakuya and said, "Renji and I will see you for dinner tonight, yes?" Byakuya nodded tensely. "Right. Goodbye Nii-san."

Ichigo sat in a chair with a book opened and held up to his chest. He peaked over the dog eared page to see Byakuya looking between the door and the chair at Hisana's side. There was a flare of embarrassment in his eyes that Ichigo wasn't actually sure was there, but finally, as if in defiance of it, he sat down.

The silence that followed was so big that Ichigo couldn't even pretend to concentrate on his book. It was awkward and stifling and made the air feel itchy.

"Long day?" Ichigo asked.

Byakuya looked at him, and Ichigo had the thought that his eyes slid to whatever they touched, seemingly incapable of jerking or showing any substantial uncertainty.

"Not particularly, and your self?"

Ichigo shrugged a shoulder. "Everydays long when you don't have much to do. I've just been job hunting, really."

Byakuya nodded as if he understood what that was like even though they both knew he didn't. Then he looked down at Hisana, brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, and thoughtfully thumbed circles on her skin.

"I thought about your words," Byakuya said. "You're right, I've never had to give up everything to save a person I love."

Ichigo shifted under the man's unforeseen earnesty, but his eyes laid in hardened anticipation.

"But I do know what it means to make sacrifices, and I like to think that, if there was a chance of her waking up, I would give up everything."

"Maybe there is a chance…"

Byakuya tilted his head again, and it was like looking at his reflection in a pool of water, him but not quite, rippled and more tired and aged than Ichigo had ever seen himself.

"No, there's not," Byakuya said. They were unsinkable words, fact, and Ichigo felt them like lead in his mouth.

"How long?"

"Six years."

Ichigo nodded, unsure of what to say. He felt this odd coziness in their shared air of ineffable tragedy, as if he had never been more understood than he was in the presence of this man, a midas man who lived in a tower of gold, who Ichigo shouldn't even be able to see, let alone touch.

It was funny in a sort've distorted way how shared scars could bridge the greatest of gaps.

"That was your sister?"

"Sister in law, technically, but I have known her since she was young. She is like a sister to me."

"I have two. Twins." Ichigo scratched his neck and looked about with a nostalgic smile. "I spent most of my life worrying about them. Still do."

"And you always will," Byakuya said, an edge of sentiment sharpening his noncommittal tone. "That is the plight of any brother."

"Yeah, I…" He looked to Rhea and squeezed her hand. "We miss them, and I know they miss us."

"You always speak of yourselves as a pair."

Ichigo looked up at Byakuya who looked back with a curious tilt of the head. It wasn't a question but more a statement of intrigue, and it left Ichigo feeling strangely realized.

"Yeah, I guess I do. What of it?"

"It's a good thing," Byakuya said as he stood. "I will be leaving now. Ki wo tsukete, Kurosaki Ichigo."

"Yeah… Jaa ne, Byakuya."

Ichigo heard Byakuya huff something like 'always so informal' as he left, causing him to smirk.

 _'What a weird guy.'_

 **xXx**

The next day, Ichigo had fallen asleep with his headphones in and woke up not to music, but to a dead phone, a sore neck, and the baritone of Byakuya Kuchiki.

Ichigo's eyes opened to the couch cushion he was nuzzled against, and he laid there adapting to wakefulness.

"Rukia is angry with me."

There was a certain melodic somberness in the man's voice that Ichigo didn't expect. It was like opening up a jewelry box only to find music coming out.

"I suppose frustrated would be a better way to phrase is."

Ichigo realized Byakuya must've been speaking to Hisana, and even though it felt invasive, the idea of piping up now seemed horribly awkward. So he steeled himself to fake sleep until Byakuya left, or at least, stopped talking.

"It is partially my fault. She told me that I should consider _'moving on'_. She said that she knows deep inside I want a life partner… I did not react well to her nosiness… You know how she is, respectful, but pushy when it comes to something that truly concerns her."

Byakuya paused for a while, and Ichigo almost considered sitting up before he started talking again. "She is not wrong. There is a part of me… that does yearn for that. What she doesn't know is that there is nothing to move on from. It isn't you or my love for you that stops me," he admitted softly. "How do I explain… I want the affection of another partner, but I feel as if my love for you drained me. I am exasperated, and I find myself wondering if it is worth the effort. Perhaps it's a sort've learned helplessness."

Byakuya paused again and Ichigo found himself unexplainably invested in even the slightest hitch of Byakuya's breath.

"Maybe it is time. I do not want to be hopeless anymore."

There was a heat at the base of Ichigo's neck that put sweat on his palms, and without thought, he was swinging his legs up and over the side of the lounge, ripping out his soundless headphones.

"You can't do that."

Byakuya's eyes widened marginally. "You were listening?" He asked.

Ichigo could see the assumingly impenetrable shield that both projected and protected Byakuya grow thinner and thinner. There was this sort've translucent calmness superimposed atop just barely discernible outlines of anger.

"I-I not on purpose," he said, scurrying to his feet. Byakuya stood too. "I woke up, and my phone had died and there was no music to drown you out, and it felt weird to just pop up, and well, that's not even the point! You can't just abandon your wife like that."

His shock vanished into a messy bluntness. The lines of his face turned sharp in a very unrefined way.

"How dare you," he said evenly. "You know nothing about Hisana or I, and yet you presume to know what she would want."

"From one man with a comatose wife to another, I know that if you want hope, you should put it in her." His lips curdled like rotten milk at the thought. "You're married. Thats till death! How could you cheat her like that?"

"You idealistic fool. I almost pity you, thinking that life's greatest tragedies can be put into these black and white boxes."

Ichigo's head grappled at thoughts and impulses, but before he could form a coherent response, Byakuya was walking towards the door. He reconsidered, turning around to add, "Remember, Kurosaki Ichigo, what someone dislikes about another person tends to be what they dislike most about themselves."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"You know," Byakuya said, continuing in his righteous strut.

"Where the hell do you think you're going. We're talking here."

"Our wives may share a room," Byakuya said, not even turning to regard Ichigo, "But I desire we be better strangers."

He left, and Ichigo stood there with his face in his palms and an insurmountable sensation of bitter shame.

 **xXx**

Ichigo took a walk. He had to. The walls of that room got closer the more he paced between them.

The sky was a muted purple, sun retired below the horizon. He tugged his beanie down over his ears as he drifted against the chill of February, staring more at what was above than ahead. He stopped at the gallery and looked inside to see ten or so children running around.

Feeling compelled, he went inside and smiled at the brood of children taking chairs from stacks in a corner and lining them up in front of a half wall with a pulled down projector hanging from it. They made the menial task look fun as they skipped and sang and spun about.

Ichigo turned towards the photos, bypassing the skylines to look at the others. He regarded a cannon portrait of a man sitting on a bench. He had lifetimes etches into the skin of a hand covering his face. His form was slumped and he bared against his knees as if he couldn't support the weight of his day. Ichigo could feel that struggle manifest in his chest.

 _'This photographer's really good at making you feel what their subject feels.'_

"May I help you?"

Ichigo spun around, but his words disappeared at the biting sight of Byakuya Kuchiki, whose apathy was only slightly betrayed by a widening of his eyes.

"Byakuya, what are you doing here?"

"This is my gallery. Those are my students, and that," he pointed at the wall, "is my work."

Crimson pooled in Ichigo's cheeks as his mouth grappled helplessly through an unusual mortification. Byakuya's unimpressed glare wasn't helping either.

"I- um, I didn't know. I-I-" He turned towards the exit and shuffled away, leaving behind only a muttered, "Sorry."

 **xXx**

Ichigo wasn't sure how he ended up at a nightclub with the baseline of some American pop song thumping in his chest.

Okay, that wasn't entirely correct. It was Yumichika's doing, but how he managed to convince Ichigo was another mystery altogether. He just had this way about him, this infectious idealism. He could make standing naked in the middle of the Red Light District sound like an evening well spent if he wanted to.

Really, it was a subtle dose of manipulation, but Yumichika had this way of making you want to be manipulated by him, especially when it came from a place off good intent.

The first thing Ichigo saw when they walked through the neon flashing entrance of _Dragon Men_ was two guys kissing by the payment desk.

"Is this a gay club?"

"Why? Do gay clubs frightened you?" Yumichika smirked and payed for both of their coverage charges before Ichigo could protest. "I hate to break it to you, but I'm gay."

Ichigo scoffed. "Really? And I thought Ikkaku was just a really muscular girl this whole time."

Yumichika gave him a witch's eyes and Ichigo held up his hands defensively. "Sorry, forgot." As they walked towards the bar, he said, "Anyway, I did date a guy in college, ya know?"

"Oh, yeah! I almost forgot. I thought that was just a flook."

"A flook?"

"You know, you're experimental college days." He rolled a shoulder. "You tried out men and the experiment yielded bad results."

They paused to order their drinks. Ichigo got a Tatami Cocktail and Yumichika a Green Breeze. When the bartender walked away, Ichigo gave Yumichika an aslant glare. "You _can_ like both. "

"Ah, I know, bisexual men _are_ a thing, but in this binary world of ours that loves putting people in boxes, who can fault me for forgetting?"

The bartender brought out their drinks and they sat, stretching out their vocal cords to speak over the music until Yumichika finally pulled a less than enthusiastic Ichigo out on the dance floor.

They danced with minimal complaining on Ichigo's part, and he was surprised to find himself having a good time. He told himself that this was okay. Told himself that it was just one night, that Rhea wouldn't mind. Ichigo needed to get out of that hospital. He spent the last week tip toeing around corners as if he was trying to avoid boobie traps when really he was avoiding Byakuya. So far he sidestepped the man's presence, but the tension of that inevitability still made knots of his shoulders.

After a few songs they ordered a couple more drinks. Yumichika went to the bathroom and left Ichigo idly circling the rim of his glass with his fingertip in attempt to dodge flirtatious looks. It was a good fifteen minutes before he returned with a grin too big to be innocent.

"So," he said, "I met someone."

"... You were gone fifteen minutes."

"When you're good, you're good."

"Wait-" Ichigo's face went slack. "You're ditching me, right?"

"You make it sound so malicious. This was my intention the whole time."

"What!?"

Yumichika gave a look of endeared patience before ordering another cocktail. "You need to meet people, Ichigo! And you can't do that if you're latched onto me like a safety blanket."

Ichigo scowled. "Yumi-"

"I worry about you. Just **…** give it thirty minutes. If you're absolutely miserable, come find me and I'll kick his very nice, very supple ass to the corner." Yumichika picked up his drink and nudged a pouting Ichigo. "You're in one of the best cities in the world, Ichigo. Live a little." He started to descend into the crowd and cut off Ichigo's objections with a loud, over the shoulder, "I'll be in the pool room upstairs"

Ichigo sighed and leaned against the bar. He had no intentions of living a little or whatever that meant. It was hard enough to maintain the relationships he had as is. The last thing he needed was to meet new people he could disappoint.

Ten minutes passed and Ichigo decided to find Yumichika and tell him he was going to go back to the hospital. He meandered through a mass of dancers, their limbs jutting like projectiles, and towards the stairs. The second floor was mellow, warm with golden light and low with indie music.

He stopped in an arched threshhold where he saw Yumichika backed against a billiards table, a pool stick in one hand and another pressed against the chest of the man he was kissing, face cradled in a firm grasp.

A lurching heat grew in Ichigo's stomach. He knew those strong hands, that broad chest and highbrow fashion sense. Ichigo, perhaps, recognized them more because of the way he clashed with his surroundings, like a lion amongst house cats.

 _'Byakuya.'_

 **xXx**

 **Tifanny91:** Thanks love! This'll be a relatively short fic. Hopefully only nine chapters in all, all which should stay pretty short. Hope you enjoy. :)

 **sherryfanfic1999** : Hope you enjoy this chapter

 **Emilytaylor5999:** Thank you! Enjoy.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N:This chapter was originally going to have an extra scene, but I was feeling a little evil so you get a cliff hanger instead.

 **Mild Exposure**

Ichigo wasn't what you'd consider a sensible creature. He had always been thoughtless. Rhea had been his moment of pause, the calming whisper of clarity amongst the disarray of impulses. So, when Ichigo call out to Yumichika, he was surprised by his own restraint.

Yumichika pulled back from Byakuya, and they both looked his way. There was little more than the most basic level of regard in Byakuya's eyes. He merely shifted his balance and lowered his hands to rest on Yumichika's shoulders, and Ichigo felt a great need to force him out of his composure. Perhaps with a fist or a scathing string of curses.

"Ichigo, w-"

"I just came to let you know I was going to head out."

Yumichika shimmied, pressing on Byakuya's chest just enough so that they weren't touching but not enough to push him away.

"You don't have to do that! Please, stay-"

"No, it's fine, really." He smiled gently at Yumichika before glaring knowingly at Byakuya, his lips curved like a bent arrow. "I'm going to the hospital to be with my wife. Thats where I should be."

Byakuya's cheeks inflated, as if filling with the air of an annoyed huff he wouldn't vocalize. His eyes stayed tacked, however, as he used his thumbs to defiantly rub circles on the slacked shoulders of Yumichika.

"Well, if you're sure…"

"Yeah. Another time, okay?"

Yumichika's lips curled into what looked more like a wrinkle than a smile. "Alright, I'll see you at home."

With a nod of the head, Ichigo was gone, and Yumichika bit his lips in the direction of his retreat.

"That was the friend you were speaking of?"

"Yeah…"

"He seems… pleasant."

Yumichika looked back to Byakuya with a wry brow and an amused huff. "He can be, actually. He is a textbook case of the apple at the top of the tree."

"Excuse me?"

"Hard to reach, but worth the climb," Yumichika explained. "He is one of the most loyal, pure hearted people I've ever met. That's why I wanted him to get out, meet new people. He forgets that he is allowed to think of himself sometimes." Yumichika shrugged and sighed, "That's Ichigo for you. The one who protects." Yumichika's smile turned sultry as his hands slid up Byakuya's chest to loop around his neck. "But that is one mountain that will not be moved, at least not tonight. Right now, I would rather focus on the man in front of me."

Byakuya's lips quirked as he pulled Yumichika's smaller frame against his own. "Tonight, you have my full attention."

 **xXx**

Ichigo sat eating at a tiny breakfast niche when he heard the twisting of a door handle. Yumichika, wearing the same clothes from the night before, still somehow looking fresh out of a catalog, walked into the kitchen with a smile that reeked of afterglow. He practically sashayed around the room, a giddiness evident in the swaying of his hips and the see-sawing of his head.

He passed by Ichigo and ruffled his hair as he walked to the coffee maker. "Isn't it a beautiful morning, my scowling friend?"

Ichigo swallowed down a lump of white rice. "For some more than others," Ichigo muttered.

Yumichika filled a mug and sat across from Ichigo. He settled into his impeccable yet typical posture, lightly tapping against the side of his mug.

"So, are you going to ask me how my night went?"

"You just got home at eight thirty in the morning, and you're practically floating around the room." He snorted as he lifted his chopsticks to his mouth. "I think I can guess."

Yumichika deflated. "You're no fun."

They both retired to their own thoughts after that, Yumichika only speaking to shoo Ichigo's elbows off the bar and reprimand his bad table manners.

Ichigo grimaced as he pushed down the tasteless food. His appetite had been replaced by a restless curiosity that seemed to preoccupy all of him, and Ichigo hated himself for that. He didn't care. Or he shouldn't, but he told himself that he _should_ at least warn Yumichika about Byakuya's infidelity.

"So," he said, his head dipped and his eyes peeping. "Are you going to see him again?"

Yumichika hummed. "Well, considering he only gave me his first name, I'd assume not. We didn't even exchange numbers."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

Yumichika gave Ichigo a patronizing smile, the one you'd give a child that had yet to taste the saltiest parts of this world. "It was pretty obvious from the get go that it would be a one night stand."

Ichigo grunted, shifting through rice with the end of his chopsticks. "Good."

"Good? Why?"

"He's married."

Yumichika widened.

"Married? How would you know that?"

Ichigo sat the chopsticks inside the bowl and looked at Yumichika directly. "That was Byakuya Kuchiki. Remember? Our wives share a room."

"Wait," Yumichika said, placing a hand over his chest, "You're telling me that I had sex with the president of Kuchiki enterprises?"

The tips of Ichigo's ears burned and he twisted in his seat. "That's all you got out of what I just said?" he asked, standing.

"You said he was married, but didn't you also tell me his wife's in a comma?"

"And?"

" _And_ , praytell how long has she been in this comma."

Ichigo picked up his bowels of half eaten food, avoiding Yumichika's glare. "Six years," he said in a hushed and hurried voice as he walked over to the sink and forked the left over food down the garbage disposal. He turned and lean against the counter to see Yumichika giving him a glare that he understood immediately. His brows were high and his lips were low and his eyes sat unwavering. It was one part contemptuous and one part wise, with just a dash of 'you should know better.' It was a look he'd received many times, and in the past, he would latch onto it like a rope, using it to climb from a hole dug by his own stubbornness and pride.

"I'm not wrong, Yumichika."

It was a Stonehenge of an expression, and when it finally fell, it was only because Yumichika wanted it to.

"Just because he is moving on doesn't mean you have to."

"That's not the point! It's...wrong."

Yumichika stood with a sigh.

"No, Ichigo. Rape is wrong. Wearing two different types of denim together is wrong. Everything else is just shades of gray." Ichigo crossed his arms, and it occurred to him that he probably looked like a petulant child that wasn't getting his way. "I think you are projecting."

"What?"

"Projecting, it means to-"

"I know what projecting means. I did take tenth grade psychology."

"I know. We took it together, and as I recall, you did rather well."

Ichigo tutted. "You would know. You copied all my homework."

"And now you're deflecting."

Ichigo rolled his eyes and turned to put away his dishes.

"I am simply stating that… It is okay to want to move on with your life. It is okay to want to move on and to feel guilty about that."

"That's not what I'm doing," Ichigo snapped over his shoulder, gripping hard the dish he was scrubbing.

"And that is okay too. Just like it's okay for Byakuya to move on with his life. His. Your morals are not everyone else's morals, and truthfully, I've never known you to be so harsh. I am disappointed."

Ichigo's hold on the bowl softened, and from the way he absentmindedly rubbed slow, soapy circles over the porcelain, it looked more as if he was smoothing out clay than washing dishes. He turned around to see Yumichika expectantly sipping his coffee and proceeded to run fingers through the hair of his dipped head.

"Thats a low blow. You know I hate that."

Yumichika let out a refreshed sigh as he placed his mug in the sink. "Why did you think I said it? You already knew you were wrong. You just can't stand to admit it. Now, you be nice to that man. He is quite lovely."

Ichigo scoffed. "You're only saying that because you had sex with him."

Yumichika perched his elbows on the counter and cradled his chin. "That's not why. Although, the sex was otherworldly. That man has a magical coc-"

"Yumichika! Gah, you're one of my best friends and he's, well he's- I don't want to think about you two- Just keep it to yourself!"

Yumichika leered at him and stood up to stretch his arms as high as they would go. He spun around before theatrically flanking the counter, his limp arms splayed across the granite like some sort of washed up jellyfish. He lifted his grinning eyes up to Ichigo and said, "I feel like a new man. He really does fuck like a dream."

Ichigo stammered, his face erupting into an itching heat. "Stop it alre-"

"So you don't want to know how I rode him like a dime store pony?"

Ichigo, breathless and inflamed, rushed out of the kitchen shouting "Henti," only to be harassed by the lewdly antagonistic laughter of Yumichika.

 **xXx**

Yumichika was right. Ichigo hated to admit he was wrong. That was made evident by the brick wall of silence that divided Ichigo's and Byakuya's sides of their wives room. He could've sent it tumbling. He knew how, was equipped, but Ichigo's apology was a wrecking ball that just wouldn't swing. He tried several times, opening his mouth only to have it clogged by anger and shame.

The only communication they shared in was the occasional cowboy style stare off that Ichigo always lost.

Byakuya eventually left, and all Ichigo had accomplished was perhaps cementing another brick in that wall, making it that much harder to destroy.

After a while, he decided to aimlessly lap the halls of the hospital. He made ovals with his feet, constantly moving and yet going nowhere, marking his mileage by nursing stations, and even those went unnoticed after enough time.

He wasn't sure if it was mental or physical exhaustion, but Ichigo decided to splurge and buy himself one of those ridiculously over priced coffee beverages.

When the cashier told him that would be 889 yen (8 U.S Dollars), Ichigo muttered, "What is the world coming to" as he fished the cash from his wallet.

The cashier returned with his drink, which Ichigo took begrudgingly before he walked over to a bench settled in front of a towering wall of windows. He blew on his coffee, passively engage in the darkening scenery, and then took a careful sip, actually moaning at the taste. It was pathetic to admit, but spending money he didn't have on a frivolous coffee drink was probably the most self indulgent thing he's done in three years, and for once, he couldn't find it in himself to feel guilty.

"I was going to introduce myself, but I feel like I might be interrupting something."

Ichigo's lips sputtered in surprise as he turned to see a petite, raven haired woman looming over him with a sharp look of amusement. He used the back of his palm to wipe away a trail of latte that had dribbled down his lips and managed a, "Uhh."

"Eloquent, really," she said through pursed lipped chuckles.

Ichigo scowled, sitting his coffee cup beside him on the bench as if to say this seat was taken. "Well you didn't exactly give me a good introduction to work with."

"Yeah, I guess you're right about that." She picked up Ichigo's cup and hoisted it back in his unprepared grasp as she sat down on the bench. "Let me try again."

"By almost spilling my very expensive coffee on me?!"

"Well, hello, By almost spilling my very expensive coffee on me-san. I'm Kuchiki Rukia."

She looked at him with a smirk so obviously taunting, and Ichigo began to feel a sense of hopeless exasperation, a weight he was familiarized to, like a pocket watch he carried around everyday.

He pinched the hollow between his eyes. "Ichigo," he sighed. "I'm Kurosaki Ichigo, and we already met." He grunted and shrugged a shoulder, "Kind've."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I came over. I wanted to apologize for that."

Despite how etiquette bound Kuchiki's seemed to be, Ichigo had a hard time believing Rukia came over here just to apologize for their sort've, not really, first meeting, as botched and uncomfortable as it may have been. He immediately saw motive behind that sly friendliness of hers, but decided it wasn't worth the energy of contesting. Besides, as it was, he was too tired to keep constant control over the narrative of his life anymore. He was starting to think his story needed of a plot twist.

"Byakuya and I, we rarely argue, but when we do, we really do."

"I could tell." Ichigo snorted, elbows against knees. "Anyway, it's okay. I get it. Ya know-" He paused and rolled the wrist of his extended hand in perhaps the most inept, nonsensical gesticulation ever. "The family stuff."

He understood it, lived it, dreamed it. Even right now, him and Karin would do outrageously inconvenient acts of avoidance all to not be left alone in a room together. Literally, whole schedules changed and planes canceled all to accommodate their inability to deal with the aftermath of another one of their fights. Fights Karin would instigate, but Ichigo would fuel.

They were just too much alike, people say. Which is why he did understand the sisterly intent behind Karins crude declaration that he should just 'pull the plug or die with her'. He respected it even, understood it, those flames of frustration that lived inside of her, burning everything until all that was left was a chard callousness. He knew how to deal with it, because they had more than blood in common. They had claws and impulses, and when you put them in a small space together and shook them up, they just knew to scratch.

That understanding led to the most corroborative estrangement possible. It was easy in that way. Not at all like his relationship with the rest of his family. He didn't know how to navigate around his dad's glaring attempts at misdirection. The way he'd point out attractive woman while they ate lunch or rambled on about some new medical research team Ryuken was starting, wrapping it up in sentimental excuses such as "bonding". Nor did he know how to navigate around the smileless eyes and the selflessly patient demeanor of Yuzu. Either way, they all pleaded with him in their own ways, some with aggressive outburst and others with passive implications, but even though he understood, he knew that they never really could. Another reason he needed to get out of Karakura.

So yeah, he understood that tension between Rukia and Byakuya, because in many ways, it was his own.

Rukia stared out of the windows, and she seemed to lose some of that haughty air that kept her posture so rigid. "It's not easy, is it?"

"What?"

"Living your life in hospital rooms." Ichigo blinked at her, and she turned to look back at him. "For the patient or the family. It gets old."

"Is that why I never see you around here?"

He hadn't meant it to sound harsh, but the words still came out with the bitter sting of accusation. Ichigo wasn't mad at her. He wasn't mad at his family or Byakuya. He was- fuck, he was just mad at the world. It took his wife and all it left him with was outrage and no one to direct it at. He almost wished he believed in a god that he could look up at in resentment instead of walking around with a constant pressure in his chest, trying not to hate everyone he met.

She made a sound that was somewhere between patronizing and defensive. "It is not as if she can actually hear me."

"You don't know that."

She dipped her head, and he was surprised by the grin that sequenced her withered expression.

"You and Byakuya would make good friends. So much alike."

"Yeah," Ichigo tutted, "Good friends, like a spider and a fly."

"I'm serious!"

"I am too. I mean, just look at us." Ichigo plucked at his plain black crew cut t-shirt. "I'm surprised they don't call security whenever I walk through the door. Meanwhile, he's dressed in the latest whatever from Dolce&Gabbana," he said, mentally accrediting Yumichika for whatever measly knowledge he had on designer brands.

"Because we all know clothing is a true assessment of a person's personality," she said, lips curling. "Besides, what music you listen to or similar hobbies you have doesn't really matter. Nothing creates a bond like shared experience, tragedy, I mean."

Ichigo rolled the paper cup between his palms, wondering if Rukia had just revealed herself. Could her reasoning for this whole conversation been to encourage a friendship between him and Byakuya? It felt awfully high school, like when you got your friend to play the role of romantic diplomat, bridging that awkwardness by talking you up to your crush. The idea made him uncomfortable, and he decided not to comment on it.

"Shared tragedy? Did you know my wife's in a comma?"

She smiled, and as a way of saying yes, offered, "If you know the right people, information isn't hard to get around here."

"More like if you have the right surname. Are you Kuchiki's just naturally invasive?"

"Only if we find someone interesting enough."

Ichigo looked for any signs of tauning, but the punctuated wryness of Rukia's perked brow seemed more like her neutral than anything else. Again, he ignored the slightly dubious comment.

"So…" he asked, "When I said you didn't know if Hisan could hear you or not, you said me and Byakuya have a lot in common, but he didn't exactly give me the hopeful impression. Opposite, actually."

She smiled. It was small and stagnate, not moving past her lips. "Do you know why Hisana is the way she is?"

"No…"

"She had a brain tumor. Supposedly inoperable. Byakuya hired some mission impossible team of neurosurgeons and they came up with this impossibly crazy yet somehow brilliant plan… Well, I guess you could say it worked. The cancer was gone, but she wouldn't wake up. A month went by...Then six months… Then a year. She had just enough brain activity not to be considered vegetated, but the doctors still suggested they take her off the feeding tube and let nature take its course, so to speak. Byakuya refused, of course. He worked himself sick after that, single handedly getting the extra funding for a research patten on comatose states. It was all he saw for the longest time."

There was a wistful silence, only the background noise of cafeteria traffic seeping in here or there, before Rukia, seemingly unwitting to, placed a hand over her heart. "He's always had this war between sentimentality and realism. Most people do, but has problems with the balance, you know? Is he hopeful now? I guess it depends on what day you ask him and what you mean by hopeful. He openly admits that she'll probably never wake up again. He lives more for himself now. I think he knows it's what Hisana wants, but still, he just won't let her go. It's complicated for him, just...complicated."

Ichigo was still wringing the cup of now cold coffee, staring through the gray tiles. He could feel it spreading, surrounding him, that complicated gray. Gray floor, gray sky, gray everything.

"I'm an idiot."

"Yeah," Rukia said, "I get that vibe from you."

Ichigo managed a meager scowl as he stood and said, "I should probably apologize to your brother next time I see him." More to himself, he muttered, "That'll be fun." He looked back to the woman with a gentle smile. "It was nice talking to you, Rukia. I think I'm going to head back to Rhea now."

"I'm sure I'll see you around," she said, but as Ichigo turned to walk away, she added, "Hey, Kurosaki-san."

When he turned back, she was standing, smiling bigger this time. "I'm not sure what you need to apologize to Byakuya about, but if you want, I can tell you where he is now. He's in… er more like on the hospital."

Ichigo shifted and scratched the back of his neck. "Uh, I-"

"I'm sure he could use the company," she pushed, making Ichigo drop his shoulders. Was this suppose to be that plot twist he was hoping for?

"Sure," he said. "Why not?

 **xXx**

PJ: No problem, love. Hope you enjoy this new chapter.

Sherryfanfic1999: Like, I had to pause reading this because I cracked up laughing in WalMart. Oh yes, there will be some future sexy time, but because it's Byakuya and Ichigo, it won't be easy.

Tifanny91: You're always keen to these things! And you're right, a little bit of jealousy doesn't hurt, but Ichigo doesn't really particular have feeling for Byakuya. Not yet anyway. Their interactions are always intense, however, and they are really antagonist to each other, so he cant really get Byakuya out of his head. I feel bad for Ichi in this fic and I hope I mange to make him more sympathetic in the future chapters because he's really at this complex stage of his life.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: This was hastily edited. Sorry if there are any major mistakes.

Ja nee: Extremely friendly way of saying goodbye

 **Aperture**

There was a science to everything, even the act of decision making. While we think of decisions as intent moments of thoughtfulness, most are like muscle memory. They are made before we even realize they are made. In the seconds between being presented with choices and picking one, thousands of neurotransmitters pregnant with memories, experience, and subconscious thought have already chosen and are rocketing that decision right into reality. No matter if it's a question of what shirt you'll wear today or if you'll take that new job, all decisions have a reason, most of which you'll have no time to figure out.

But that didn't stop Ichigo from trying to understand why his mental cruise control decided to drive him straight for the roof. Why did he tell Rukia he'd come here tonight? Sure, he knew he needed to apologize to Byakuya, but considering their wives shared a room, seeking him out like this felt strange. Which was fine, ya know, because he could change his mind, but what wasn't fine was that he didn't want to, and he didn't know why he didn't want to. He felt nervous and apprehensive, but he also felt a need to walk through that door. Mostly he felt like this was one too many emotional levels for a simple apology.

Yet, here he was, standing in front of the last door on the stairs well, telling himself that it was all meaningless, just words that didn't deserve his worry, willing himself to move. Well, he wasn't going back down now. Too stubborn for that. So there was only one other choice.

As he stepped onto the roof, Ichigo was drenched in the cold winds of February. He tugged at the edges of his blue and red varsity style jacket and flipped up the hood as his eyes searched for Byakuya. He didn't find him, but with the way the roof was laid out, you couldn't see the whole perimeter from any one vantage point. You had to, you know, actually move. So, reluctantly, he did.

He walked to the other side, only taking a few steps before he saw Byakuya's frame covered by the purple gleam of a security light. He was bent over a large electrical box with his upper body splayed across it, elbows jutted to either side of him to support his weight. It was such an unexpected and bordering on erotic position that Ichigo went nonverbal at the sight. He couldn't imagine that the refined heir to the Kuchiki legacy would ever hold himself in such a vulnerable way, alone or not. That's when Ichigo heard the shuttering of a camera lense and understood exactly why Byakuya was situated in such a… erm...welcoming stance.

Without even realizing it, Ichigo was ogling the man's backside. Which, if you asked him, was totally not his fault. Byakuya wore these pants that were perfectly tailored to his dimensions, not too tight but certainly fitting enough to highlight his natural assets, which, mind you, were all perked up and advertised right in front of Ichigo who was just a human for christ sakes. Of course he was going to look, and lick his lips, and oh god, what was he doing?

He blinked a few times as if to refocus his one track - or more aptly, one sighted - mind, and as he did, Byakuya stood and tilted his head down at his camera, prompting a pang of urgency in Ichigo's chest. If Byakuya turned to see him, he'd think Ichigo was some gapping weirdo. (And he wouldn't be exactly wrong.) So, quickly, he said the first thing he could think of. "You insulted me with Shakespeare."

At the way Byakuya's shoulders tensed and he spun around in a flinching type maneuver, his apathy cracked opened by shock, it was enough to make Ichigo momentarily forget his stupid choice of greeting. It was enough to make him grin.

His tilted his chin, making his hood inch off his beanie clad head. "I scared you," he stated, unsure of why he was so amused by this.

As expected, Byakuya was back to his infuriating neutral self. The indifference settled so smoothly, like it was simply a law of nature. A what goes up must come down sort've thing. It was so agitating to Ichigo, the way that Byakuya showed emotions in barely perceivable, flinching microexpressions. So subtly that, if you wanted to know what he was thinking, you had to watch him vigilantly, something Ichigo didn't have the energy to do. And yet, here he was, eyes sharp and ready to catch any signs of humanity under that steely layer of apathy.

"Hardly." Byakuya did his version of an eye roll, his pupils gliding to the side, so full of elegant distaste. "You caught me off guard."

Ichigo's smile stilted but didn't drop. "That just sounds like a really prideful way of saying I scared you."

Byakuya sighed and adjusted the strap of his camera. "Are you following me?"

"What?"

"I can not seem to avoid your presence of late."

Ichigo scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself."

Byakuya tilted his head, eyes unabashedly sliding over every part Ichigo had. He felt hot under that scrutiny, tongue heavy, and thwarted by a tightness he had to bite down on.

When Byakuya finally finished in his exploration and looked at Ichigo directly, the lines of his lips curving in a way that could almost be considered a smile, Ichigo felt pliaged, as if those eyes took something away from him.

"Why would I have to when your attention does that for me?"

That damned heat shot its way to Ichigo's cheeks and his mouth floundered in a pathetic attempt to scowl. He tried to look at Byakuya, but found it impossible. At least until there was a flashing white snapping him from his embarrassment.

He looked to Byakuya to see him slowly lowering his camera to chest level, the pursed lips a sure sign of amusement, something Ichigo certainly was not.

"What the hell? Don't take my picture!"

"Excuse me," Byakuya said, not sounding apologetic in the least. "I'm terribly sorry. Your expression was amusing and I wanted to capture it. It's a habit of mine."

Never had Ichigo met someone so goddamn infuriating, with his nonchalant attitude, his long enduring stares, and the way he did whatever he wanted while still somehow remaining effortlessly polite. This guy was an ass, and Ichigo had every intention of calling him out on it.

"What's your problem? Do you get off on poverty porn?"

"Poverty... porn?" Byakuya's brows furrowed, the words sounding as uncertain as he looked. "Kurosaki Ichigo, you are at one of the best medical institutions in the world. Calling yourself impoverished is not only a grand exaggeration, but insulting to those who truly are."

"You know what I mean!" Ichigo snapped, his fingers coiling into a clinch where they sat snug in his pockets. "Or maybe you don't. All I know is, you go around saying whatever you want and doing whatever you want, like you're money makes you entitled. Maybe it's because you grew up rich and nobody taught you any social skills. Well, let me be the first to tell you, Byakuya, you're brash as fuck."

Byakuya made an abrupt hiccup like sound only to quickly cover his mouth with the tips of his fingers. If it wasn't for the way his eyes crinkled and the crest of his cheeks puffed, Ichigo wouldn't of known what to make of the outburst.

"Are you seriously laughing at me!?"

"Ah, excuse me," Byakuya said, his voice strained with the aftermath of laughter. Something that might have been endearing if Ichigo didn't feel like a fist was going to bust right through his gut and straight into Byakuya's stupidly gorgeous face. "It is just, you called me brash, and yet you are the brashest man I've ever met."

Maybe it was because Byakuya's voice was still light from the preceding laughter, but what should've sounded like an insult sounded almost charmed, making Ichigo's fingers unfurl and his mouth open and close back again. He didn't know what to say, but it didn't matter, because Byakuya was talking again.

"You must see the irony. You are up here on the roof, for reason you've yet to disclose, cursing at a man you hardly know, speaking so informally to the owner of this hospital, and so unapologetically too." Byakuya rounded the electrical box in silence and sat down facing away from Ichigo. All the while, Ichigo still couldn't find his voice. "I do apologize. I promise not to take your picture again without your allowance. However, if it makes you feel any better, I do only shoot things and people that I find interest in."

There it was again. That heat. God damn this man.

Ichigo tugged at his hair underneath his beanie, let out a breath, and forced himself to say something, anything.

"Rukia, she introduced herself to me. Said I should come up here and talk to you."

"Ah, that does sound like Rukia… What did you mean?"

"About what?"

"When you said I insulted you using Shakespeare."

"Oh, um, when you said, I wish we be better strangers. That's Shakespeare."

Byakuya turned his head, not enough to look back at Ichigo, but enough to catch him in his peripheral.

"I didn't think you would notice."

"Why? Do you assume I'm stupid?"

"It seems to be you who are full of assumptions, Kurosaki Ichigo. As if you expect the worst out of me." Byakuya paused long enough to let the words sit against Ichigo's diaphragm and settle uncomfortably in his gut. "Very few people enjoy reading Shakespeare, especially enough to know a one liner such as that."

"Oh." Ichigo paused, tucking his chin into his collarbone and shuffling a bit. "Hamlet's one of my favorites," he said, not at all sure of why.

Byakuya made a curious humming noise, but said nothing else about it. Instead, he asked, "And why did you want to come up here and speak with me?"

Why indeed? To apologize, mostly, but that wasn't exactly going so well. It had been lost to a strange mixture of irritation and fascination. In fact, if Byakuya hadn't of said anything, Ichigo may have forgotten all together.

"I wanted to apologize."

"Is that what this is? And you say I have poor social skills."

Ichigo's eyes pinched, but he didn't have the supporting anger to hold it up. Instead, his shoulders deflated, and walking towards Byakuya, he said, "I guess I deserve that." He stopped in front of Byakuya, turned towards him, and took a moment to appreciate his profile. "Look," Ichigo said, and Byakuya did, look at him, that is. "I had no right to say those things to you. Yumichika was right, I was projecting, which isn't cool and not the person I am. So anyway, I'm sorry."

For once, Byakuya's stare didn't linger on him. Instead, he turned his gaze back upon the skyline. Ichigo wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"Would you like to sit with me, Kurosaki Ichigo?" His lips curled, and he looked at Ichigo out of the side of his eye. "Or would you prefer we make better strangers?"

Ichigo felt himself smile. "I think it's too late for that," he said as he slid beside Byakuya.

And then Ichigo sat there, tapping his pointer finger against his thigh, honing in on the sound of passing cars as he tried to force himself not to look at Byakuya.

He thought about what Rhea would say, about how moments are what you make of them, about how lost opportunities could be as simple as conversation you didn't take the time to have. He could be earnest. He could ask questions that he thought only Byakuya could understand, attempt to create a bond, a friendship, something. Or he could go back to Rhea's room, sit there alone like always, and pretend like he was alright with that. Again, it came down to decisions.

"Does it help?" he asked. "Does hooking up like that make you less lonely?"

Ichigo felt more than saw Byakuya turn to look at him. He stared at the lights, blinking until they were just smudges in his vision, and then turned to look at Byakuya too. Still, he couldn't read him, but there was something different this time. It was as if he had gotten a bit clearer around the edges, as if with enough effort, Ichigo might be able to interpret all the expressions he never gave.

"No, but that does not mean I was disappointed with the evening or that I regret it." He paused and tilted his head towards his hands, blinking. "I enjoyed myself because I did not expect too much from our time together."

"So you're telling me that the key to not being disappointed is to lower your expectations?" Ichigo snorted. "Any more words of wisdom?"

He did that Byakuya eye roll thing again, and Ichigo nipped at his smiling lips. "I am saying that you have to know which moments and people are worth putting stock in and which aren't."

"Make the most of each moment?"

"Yes, something like that. Or more so, be true to each moment."

Ichigo drew idle circles against the mettle with the tips of his fingers. "But, in the room that night, you said you wanted to move on," Ichigo said, managing not mumble nervously. "Right?"

"One day," Byakuya said, his eyes skimming over Ichigo before turning back towards the skyline. "Perhaps I haven't found a moment worth investing in yet… Why do you ask? Do you want to move on, Kurosaki Ichigo?"

Ichigo propped up one of his legs so that half his foot dangled off the edge of the box. He pulled his knee against his chest to rest his chin on, watching as his other leg swung lazily beside Byakuya's.

"I'm not as blindly optimistic as everyone thinks I am. I know the chances of her waking up are almost none. I know that I've been pushing everyone away" He turned to look at Byakuya, his cheek resting against his knee cap. "I get it. It's just, everyone wants me to…"

"Move on?"

"Yeah."

"But you're not ready."

"Exactly!"

"Then that's fine," Byakuya said matter of factly. "Only you can decide that for yourself. However, from the perspective of someone who has been there, I will say that there is always hope, but like moments, you have to decide what you should put it in." Byakuya looked at him intently with his skylight eyes, and Ichigo felt his heart thump against his clavicle. "If you spend all your time mourning a locked door, you'll never see the open windows around you."

The corners of his lips twitched. "Didn't know you were so sage, Byakuya."

"Why?" Byakuya mocked, his lips mimicking Ichigo's. "Do you assume I'm stupid?"

Ichigo chuckled, his smirk growing. "Yes," he said.

They looked at each other with soft eyes and with lips that wobbled from a lingering happiness. Then, suddenly, Byakuya turned away, dipped his head, pinched the bridge of his nose, and let out a self deprecating huff. "Perhaps I am," he said, making Ichigo shift in curiosity. Before he could question anything, Byakuya was pulling a set of keys from his pocket and letting them sit flatly against his palm. His opposing hand hit the back of his hand with a plop, catapulting the keys towards Ichigo, who despite his obvious confusion, caught them swiftly. "Lock up when you're ready to leave," Byakuya supplied as his slid to standing.

"Oh." Ichigo looked at the keys for a few hesitant seconds before curling his fingers around them. "Thanks. I guess I'll just… return them when I see you next."

Ichigo felt compelled to stand, to match Byakuya's posture, so he did. Byakuya leveled his chin at Ichigo and smiled almost unperceivably. "Keep those. I have a copy. Although," he added, "If the maintenance crew catches you up here, you did not get those from me."

Ichigo grinned and shuffled forward. "Look who has a rebellious side."

Byakuya did his version of a shrug, shoulder rising and falling in a controlled yet fluid manner. "I assume there's much you don't know about me yet, but don't fret," he said, stepping forward, "given enough time, I'm sure you'll figure me out."

Ichigo's smile fizzled, his cheeks slowly becoming a swelling mess of heat. "Yeah, I'm sure I will."

"Jaa ne, Kurosaki Ichigo."

Ichigo's eyes widened, mouth feeling dry as words evaporated from them. He needed to take off this jacket. Wasn't it suppose to be cold?

"Uh, um- Yeah, Jaa ne, Byakuya," Ichigo finally managed, waving dumbly. God, he was such an ass.

Byakuya's smirk was the knowing, slow building type, and if that wasn't enough to make Ichigo fidget, the wink he received certainly was.

Ichigo clutched tighter to the increasingly heavy keys as he watched Byakuya's moving form become contours against the inky, nighttime

backdrop.

Watching him felt ambiguous. It felt dangerous. It felt thrilling.

xXx

There was no doubt that Byakuya was an attractive man, but Ichigo could say the same about a lot of people. Objectively, many of his friends and family members were attractive, but that didn't mean Ichigo was attracted to them.

There was a fine differentiating line between those two concepts, and Ichigo could safely say he had stepped so far over that line he hadn't even seen it since he first met Byakuya.

Ichigo was certainly attracted to Byakuya Kuchiki. He could admit that. He wasn't so insecure about his sexuality or his feelings towards his wife to feel as if it was anything worth getting defensive about. Byakuya was a beautiful man, looking hand crafted like one of his suits or those lattes he was always drinking and Ichigo had eyes and a brain meant to appreciate those sorts of things. Really, it was no big deal.

But as he looked at the clock beside Rhea's bed for the third time that evening, he thought that, okay, maybe it was a tiny, minuscule deal.

He blamed it on the whiplash that was his relationship with Byakuya. They hadn't known each other long, but each of their encounters were always punctuated by intensity. Earnest and full of… something. Rather it was anger or tension or understanding, Ichigo always left with a deeper regard towards Byakuya than he had before.

It had been two weeks since the night on the roof, and now they were simmering. A slow, constant heat warmed all of interactions. They weren't as intense, but they still got to Ichigo all the same.

In those two weeks, Byakuya had started to visit Hisana more often, about the same time every night, and Ichigo had begrudgingly began to anticipate the other man, even look forward to him.

Again, it was no big deal. It was just a combination of proximity, a maddening isolation, and a shared understanding that made Ichigo latch onto the companionship so tightly. Ichigo had been lonely, and Byakuya had surprised him. He didn't except Byakuya to be a really decent guy underneath his layers or cashmere sweaters and blank stares.

Ichigo looked to the clock again and told himself that Byakuya wasn't coming tonight. He didn't like the disappointment he felt nor the guilt that made him look to Rhea with a conflicted frown. No. Ichigo wouldn't feel bad. It was just an infatuation, something fleeting and inevitably shallow. He picked up his book that laid flat against the arm of the couch, and as he flipped to his marked page, he told himself that there was nothing wrong with enjoying someone's company.

"Good evening."

Ichigo's head perked up at the sound, looking at Byakuya as he walked over with two disposable coffee cuffs that Ichigo recognized as the ones from the cafeteria. Byakuya wordlessly sat one in front of Ichigo, who picked it up with a grumbled 'Thanks'. He took a sip before saying, "You didn't have to do this, you know."

Byakuya was already turned away from him and moving towards Hisana. He shrugged casually and said, "I enjoy helping the poor."

"You're a bastard," Ichigo said, having to purse his lips in order to hide a smirk.

Byakuya sat on the edge of the hospital bed, twisted so that he was looking down at Hisana. Ichigo liked watching him like this. He liked the way his eyes softened and the way he'd thumb careful circles on Hisana's cheek. He liked the way his lips went slack whenever he pressed them against the wrinkle on Hisana's forehead.

And yeah, maybe Ichigo was spending too much time with Byakuya. He was picking up his bad habit of staring.

He looked back down at the book, but was stilled when Byakuya said: "Somebody, your father or mine, should have told us that not many people have ever died of love. But multitudes have perished, and are perishing every hour - and in the oddest places - for the lack of it."

Ichigo stilled as Byakuya looked from Hisana to him, eyes like two skipping stones, smooth and sinking into Ichigo. "That's a line from your book," Byakuya clarified. "Giovanni's Room. It is one of my favorites by Baldwin."

"Oh," Ichigo picked up the book and looked at it as if to make sure it was still there. He shut it and said, "Yeah, it's good. I, um, Yumichika lent it to me." He let out a tiny chuckle. "He has good taste in just about everything."

"Even in men?" Byakuya said with a flinching smile.

"Well, maybe not in everything. "

Ichigo watched the way Byakuya's smirk sat a little more permanently on his face. He watched the way his lips fluttered like butterfly wings, gently slicing the air with each move. He watched the crevices of Byakuya's mouth become soft curves as the lines of his lips fell into heedful slopes. He watched them as they asked, "Would you like to get a drink with me at the bar next door, Kurosaki Ichigo?"

It shouldn't of been so easy to say yes to this man.

xXx

Byakuya stood behind the green felt of a billiards table, his nimble fingers gently securing the edges of a chalk cube. He twisted it against the cues tip in the same way someone turned the knob of a thermostat, his eyes only coming back to Ichigo once satisfied.

"You are not good at this, are you?"

Ichigo looked down to their all but one sided game. "What gave me away?"

Byakuya lifted a brow, seemingly amused. "You're stature is a bit off." He leaned so that his chest hovered above the table, pivoting his hips and pointing one leg out to the side. Ichigo chuckled around the rim of his beer. Byakuya's stance reminded him of one of those cliche scenes in a movie where a woman stuck her leg out into traffic in an attempt to seduce a ride.

"Are you trying to get a shot or a boyfriend, Byakuya?"

The stick hit the cue ball with a clank and ricocheted off the edge of the table before, knocking one of Byakuya's balls into a pocket. Byakuya looked up from his still perched position, and in a way that teetered somewhere between aloof and wry, he said, "Perhaps both."

The devil.

That's what Byakuya was. He had to be, because Ichigo had never met someone who could take his taunts and give them layers. He never met someone who could say something so seemingly noncommittal and yet have it hit with the heaviness of a semi truck.

He took a steadying gulp of his beer as Byakuya rounded the table to stand by his side. "It is also the way you handle the cue stick." He let out a considering hum. "I've noticed that you hold everything like a surgeon holds a scalpel. Gently and with caution." His lips hooked on one side. "It doesn't fit you're bellicose nature."

Ichigo squirmed in his spot, turning so that he was leaning against the pool table. "I guess that makes sense." When Byakuya made a prompting noise, Ichigo said, "I was… suppose to be a surgeon. I finished medical school and my internship. I passed my board exam, but…" His voice wavered. "I'm working at a nearby clinic right now."

"But that's a P.A's job."

Ichigo knew that. He knew he was overqualified for the position, but still, he had defended his choice so often that his explanation became almost scripted, and yet, for some reason, he had forgotten his lines. In replace of them was something that felt like shame or maybe insecurity. Either way, Ichigo tipped his chin to look at Byakuya and hoped his silence could be interpreted.

The lines of Byakuya's netted brows unfurled in understanding. "Your wife," he said.

Ichigo bit his lip and nodded. "We met in medical school," he said, dipping his head. "Did our internship together and everything. It didn't feel right to continue without her."

Byakuya was quite, chewing on the words not in confusion but in a way that said he was trying to decide how he felt about them. He sat down his pool cue and matched Ichigo's position against the table, letting his hands rest precariously against his thighs. "There is this French expression," he said. "L'appel du vide'. It translates into The call of the void. In the simplest of terms, it means that we self sabotage as a form of control."

"Are you saying that I'm self sabotaging?" Ichigo asked, trying to bolster himself with an anger that he just didn't have.

"I am saying that all humans do. It is a natural drive to self-destruct. I have done it. I have regretted it." He paused, angeling his torso towards Ichigo. Their thighs brushed. "We all have moments where we want to jump from high places and hope that there is no one there to catch us."

They looked at each other in the low light of the hanging pool lamp. The sound of frivolous bar speak created a bubble of static around them, and Ichigo thought he should probably step out of it. He thought that he didn't want to.

"What high places have you jumped from, Byakuya?"

The bubble constricted. Their legs pressed firmly. They could feel the breath of each other's words skim across their cheeks. Neither commented on this newfound closeness.

"I saw nothing but my work after Hisana. I was lost in it. It felt like control, but really, it was just an anchor that kept pulling me down. But it's not like jumping off an actual building. You never hit the ground. I didn't want to spend my whole life falling towards nothing."

With a sigh, Byakuya shifted away, and if Ichigo didn't feel so suddenly bereft of something, the distance between them might have felt natural.

"If you would like, I could find a place for you within our residency program."

Ichigo snorted. "Sure. When can I start?" When Ichigo looked to see Byakuya's lax, unassuming expression, his eyes widened. "You're serious?"

"Of course."

"Byakuya, you- you can't just give me a residency."

"It is my hospital. I can do whatever I want," Byakuya said as if it was just a basic fact of life.

Ichigo tutted. "Glad to see your position isn't going to your head."

"Kurosaki Ichigo," Byakuya said, prompting Ichigo to look and regard him. His eyes were stern apertures and lips tight slabs like concret. Ichigo wondered if this was the face Byakuya showed only a few poor souls in spacious conference rooms. "This is a serious offer. One that would be pragmatic for you on both a professional and personal level. You would be able to perform your residency at a renowned medical facility while also staying close to your wife."

Ichigo blinked for a few silent ticks. "You can't just ofter me something like that," he finally snapped. "I could be the worst physician to ever hold a scalpel for all you know."

"I highly doubt that. I have a sense for these things."

"Yeah, and I have a sense for bullshit." Ichigo meant to look mad, he really did, but it was hard when Byakuya stared at him with a perked brow and lips that seem permanently pinched at the sides. He smirked and said, "I'm drunk and you're taking advantage of my crappy judgment. I thought a guy of your social caliber would be better than that, Byakuya."

Byakuya hummed, amused. "You thought wrong. I've been known to use questionable methods when I want something."

"More like evil methods," Ichigo muttered.

There was a giddy heat bubbling up in him, the first signs of something frighteningly inevitable. He folded his arms against his midriff as if to hold it down, but when he finally had the gut to look at Byakuya directly, heat slipped between the fissures of his touching forearms and shot up to fill the dips in his cheeks.

"Thanks Byakuya. I'll consider it."

Byakuya's smile was small, but so very there. So there that it was all Ichigo could think about in his hazy warmth.

"That is all I ask."

Ichigo knew he should've stayed away from midnight fueled decision making as Greek as the blood that ran through Rhea's veins, but that was all life was made up of, wasn't it? Choices we'll never clearly understand until it's too late.

xXx

Sherryfanfic1999: Gurl. Don't we all need our own Byakuya. I'd be alot less stressed out. lol

Tifanny91: Hope you enjoy this chapter, chika! :)

Daddys crazy little bitch: Thanks, love!

gemblack: Sorry for the wait. Thank you for you're patience and support.

Darklight14: I'm glad you're enjoying this, chika.

iamme: Ask and you shall receive. :)


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